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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056768">Gasoline</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Queen784/pseuds/Ice_Queen784'>Ice_Queen784</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Devil in Me [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Depression, F/M, Heavy Angst, Jemma Simmons Needs a Hug, Season/Series 04, Self-Harm, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:41:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Queen784/pseuds/Ice_Queen784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And all the people say<br/>“You can’t wake up, this is not a dream<br/>You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being<br/>With your face all made up, living on a screen<br/>Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Melinda May &amp; Jemma Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Devil in Me [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gasoline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on Gasoline by Halsey</p>
<p>Trigger warning: Self-harm</p>
<p>Also, there is Fitzsimmons in this fic, but it's not positively portrayed, so if you don't like that, this probably isn't the fic for you. Otherwise, enjoy! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jemma walked down the street from the base. It was late, almost midnight, but she couldn’t stay in her bunk alone anymore. Not sober anyway. So she walked down to the liquor store. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had just gotten paid today. SHIELD had a new director now, named Jeffrey Mace, and she was gaining his trust. Climbing her way up the ranks. She was making more than any of her former teammates now, even Coulson. But she still wasn’t happy. In fact, she was more miserable than ever.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The store was about to close, and she was the only customer. She grabbed whatever sounded good off the shelves, without even bothering to look at the prices. Including a bottle of champagne that she found out cost over a hundred dollars when she got to the register. Her total was almost three hundred dollars. She knew she couldn’t really afford it, but she decided she didn’t care.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She walked back to the base and went straight to her bunk, that always felt so empty and lonely. She and Fitz were looking for a place where they could move in together, but for now, she was on her own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jemma sat down on the couch and drank until she couldn’t think straight. Which was exactly what she had wanted. Sometimes, she just couldn’t handle her own thoughts and feelings anymore. She had never been good at dealing with her issues, but it had gotten so much worse recently. She had been through so much pain and trauma in the last few years that she didn’t even know how to begin to process it. So she tried to bury it all away. And it was driving her insane.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She drank until every coherent thought in her head was gone. Until she was in a state of complete numbness. Until she could hardly even move. And then she threw up all over herself. She tried to stumble to the bathroom across the hall, but didn’t even make it to the door. She  just ended up vomiting on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she finally sat up again, the first thing she saw was the rest of the alcohol on her table. She stumbled to her feet, grabbed the remaining bottles, including the champagne, and took them to the bathroom and poured them all down the drain. Well, almost all of them. She dropped a bottle of whiskey on the floor. It shattered, and left a pool of broken glass and alcohol at her feet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sank to the floor and curled up in a ball. It wasn’t long before she passed out entirely. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do the people whisper ‘bout you on the train like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Saying that “you shouldn’t waste your pretty face” like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jemma woke up the next morning with a god awful headache. In fact, her whole body hurt from sleeping on the bathroom floor all night. She got up and walked back to her bunk to take a Tylenol, narrowly avoiding stepping in dried vomit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As she cleaned her bunk, she wondered how the hell she got like this. It wasn’t like her to get so drunk she trashed her place. Or at least it didn’t used to be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then she got an alien disease and almost died. Then she got thrown out of a plane in a medpod and had to swim up from the bottom of the ocean dragging Fitz behind her. Then she got sucked through a rock to another planet. It was just one trauma after another constantly. And she had no clue how to handle it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t know how to open up to someone about her darkest thoughts and fears. She only knew how to lock them away in a box and pretend they weren’t there. Not that there was anyone she could open up to even if she did know how. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, she was dating Fitz, but their relationship had been a little strained as of late. Besides, he had his own traumas to deal with, without her adding her baggage on top of it. She might have felt better talking to Daisy, but she had run off after Lincoln died. And she had her own issues to deal with too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t feel comfortable talking to anyone else. She was afraid that May or Coulson would think she was weak and couldn’t handle being on the team. She had never been that close with Mack, and she didn’t know Yo-Yo that well yet. She couldn’t risk talking to anyone else, in case it got back to the new director. So she kept it all bottled up inside, like she always had. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had no choice but to ignore it all. She couldn’t allow herself to focus on her pain or her mental state. She had to stay focused on her career. She was too busy climbing up the ranks of SHIELD. The new director was splitting up the team, and she needed to maintain as much control as possible. She desperately needed to have control of something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But she had to let some of it out, to prevent herself from exploding from everything. Or perhaps she was already exploding. And that’s why she had outbursts like last night. Normally, it was more subtle than that. She usually tried not to make a gigantic mess she would have to clean up later. She kept her outbursts short and controlled. Confined to one specific area. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jemma decided to change. As she took off her dirty clothes from the night before, she saw the scars on her arms. She usually wore long sleeves, so nobody noticed. She did it over the bathroom sink, to make it easier to clean up the blood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she was finally ready to go, she walked down to the metro station. She had an appointment to look at an apartment that morning, and she decided to take the train down to the neighborhood. She was too exhausted from the previous night to walk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She could feel eyes on her as she sat on the train. She felt like they were judging her, as if they knew who she was and what she had done. Like they could see right through her. They seemed to be questioning her. She could have been anything. She could’ve gone down a much easier path in life. Why was a beautiful woman like her a scientist for a spy organization? Why would she put herself in harm’s way like that? Why had she put herself through all of this?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She heard all their questions, even though none of them were ever really asked. And even if they were, she didn’t think she could answer any of them anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And all the people say</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You can’t wake up, this is not a dream</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With your face all made up, living on a screen</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After the apartment tour, Jemma called Fitz to tell him about it while she rode the train back. She knew he would be too busy to talk in person when she returned to the base. He never had time for her, and half the time, he didn’t seem to care that much. He was barely even listening to her when she talked about the apartment. She could’ve told him the furniture was on the ceiling and he wouldn’t have noticed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It isn’t my dream apartment or anything, but it’s in our budget.” She told him at the end of her description of it, which she was sure he heard almost none of. “I think it could work for us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” He replied, sounding a little annoyed. “Just send me some pictures of it. I’ll look at them later.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Love-,” Fitz hung up before she could finish. “You.” She said to no one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she got back to the base, she went straight to the lab. Fitz was there, working on something. He saw her walk in, but didn’t really acknowledge her presence. No one in the lab did. People didn’t talk to her unless they had to. After all, no one wants to speak with their boss. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jemma went through the rest of the day not really living it. She was just going through the motions, like she always did. At this point, she felt like her life was just a terrible dream she couldn’t wake up from. Her nightmares haunted her at night, and followed her during the day. There was no escape from it, and there was no one she could turn to for help, or even a distraction. She was on her own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had always been an introverted person. But these days, she had become so withdrawn that sometimes she felt invisible. The only person she talked to on a regular basis was Mace, and he didn’t even see her as a human being. All she was to him was another cog in the machine. That was all she was to anyone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That evening, she went to her bunk alone. Fitz had gone to Radcliffe’s, and she wasn’t sure when he would be back. Not that it really mattered. It wasn’t like he would come see her anyway. They hadn’t even been together that long, but it seemed that he would already rather be anywhere but with her. And she couldn’t blame him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>These days, she was always in one of two modes. The first was the cold, professional, almost robotic demeanor that she presented to people. The second, was the insane disaster that she kept hidden away and only let out when she was alone. Both of them were ways to avoid dealing with her traumas and emotions. She just didn’t know how to cope. And if this was how she had to live in order to survive, then she would. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I think there’s a flaw in my code</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>These voices won’t leave me alone</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next afternoon, Fitz actually agreed to have lunch with Jemma. They went out to a small café a few blocks away from the base, and he told her about the football game he had watched with Radcliffe the night before. She listened intently, nodding along as he talked, although she was mostly staring at her plate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you heard a word I’ve said?” Fitz demanded suddenly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I have.” She replied defensively, looking up at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? You’re not acting like it.” He retorted. “You know, I jumped through a portal to another planet for you. The least you could do in return is listen when I talk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am listening.” Jemma insisted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No you’re not. You never are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve barely spoken to me in a week.” She shot back. “You haven’t given me anything to listen to until today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I would want to talk to you more if you hadn’t become so cold all of a sudden.” He told her. “Seriously, I liked you better before you went to Maveth.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wanted to punch him in the face for that comment, because seriously, after everything she’s been through, how dare he? But she didn’t. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She got up and walked out, not caring at all that she was leaving him to pay the check. She knew he would call later demanding an apology, but she wouldn’t answer. He didn’t deserve one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was right when he said that she had changed. But his comment was completely out of line and uncalled for. She might be a little cold now, but at least she was still a good person, which was more than she could say about him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She spent a lot of her time these days feeling like there was something wrong with her. Like there was a flaw in her code. The voices in her head enforced that well enough, and so did Fitz. And maybe the voices were right. But she dealt with it as best as she could, and she was certainly handling her demons better than he handled his. It was better to take out her problems on herself than on those she cared about.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pointing fingers cause you’ll never take the blame like me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jemma spent the rest of the day burying herself in work. She refused to speak to anyone if it wasn’t related to a mission or something going on in the lab. She was already on edge, and she was afraid that if she had to deal with people more than was absolutely necessary that she would snap completely. And she couldn’t let that happen. She was well aware that the way she was acting wasn’t normal, which was why she needed to limit her human interaction, lest anyone notice her strange behavior. She couldn’t let it get back to Mace that his right hand was a deranged psychopath. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the end of the day, she went to her bunk and grabbed the bone knife from Maveth. She could never bear to part with it, and besides, it came in handy. She slipped it into her pocket and walked across the hallway to the bathroom, making sure no one saw her. She locked the door behind her and felt tears well up in her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jemma rolled up her sleeves and took the knife from her pocket. She hissed when the blade cut into her arm, taking care not to hit a major artery. It hurt a lot, but she enjoyed the pain. It was a form of release. A way to let out her emotions without showing them to anyone else. She didn’t stop until she had reopened most of her scars. When she was done, she bandaged her arms and cleaned up the blood from the sink. She took a minute to wipe her tears and take a few deep breaths before she put the knife back in her pocket and left the bathroom. She had almost made it to the door of her bunk when a voice stopped her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jemma,” Fitz called. “We need to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not in the mood.” She snapped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I am.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a first.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you being like this?” He asked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t act like this is my fault.” Jemma retorted. “You’re the one who distanced yourself when things got serious. You’re the one who’s never around. This is on you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s not my fault that you’re acting insane.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t reply. She just turned around and went to her bunk, locking the door behind her. He pounded on it and called her name a few times before giving up and leaving. She breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t deal with him right now, especially not if he was going to act like that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The problems in their relationship were all his fault. This was not on her. And she was not going to accept responsibility for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And all the people say</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You can’t wake up, this is not a dream</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With your face all made up, living on a screen</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next day, Coulson and Mack returned from their mission to refuel, and Mace had asked Jemma to be there for the debriefing. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, but at least she knew they would be taking the Zephyr back out the next day to continue their search for Daisy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After the meeting, Jemma left Mace’s office to go down to the lab, but Coulson pulled her aside in the hallway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need something?” She asked him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wanted to talk to you.” Coulson told her. “I wanted to make sure you’re doing alright.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I am.” Jemma replied.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“People are just concerned about you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No they’re not.” He raised an eyebrow and she sighed. “What I meant to say is, they have no reason to be.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I’m just saying that someone expressed their concern about your well-being to me.” He replied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?” She asked. “Was it Fitz?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” He answered. She hoped she hid her disappointment well. “It was actually May. She just mentioned in passing that she wasn’t sure how well you were handling the transition into your new role.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If she’s really so concerned, she can come talk to me herself.” Jemma retorted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Simmons, all I’m asking is if you’re okay. Are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” She insisted. “You can tell May she has nothing to be worried about.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She stormed off before he could say anything else. No one actually cared if she was alright or not. And it didn’t matter anyway. How she felt didn’t matter. It would be better for her to feel nothing at all. All that mattered now was dedicating herself to her work. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I think there’s a flaw in my code</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>These voices won’t leave me alone</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next day, Jemma broke up with Fitz. She figured they would both be better off for it. Someday, if she decided she wanted to, she might try again to make things work with him. But she wasn’t going to stay trapped in a relationship she was currently miserable in. For now, she needed to work out her issues by herself. She had a lot of shit she needed to figure out how to deal with, and she knew he wasn’t going to help her do that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As she walked back to her bunk afterwards, she found herself thinking about something Fitz had said the first time they had made love. He had made a remark about how cold her hands were. It was a simple observation at the time, but it was more accurate than he could’ve realized. She had a good heart, but her traumas had turned her cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t the woman she used to be. She felt broken now. Like there was a flaw in her code. But she hoped she could fix it by herself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jemma reached the door to her bunk, but before she went inside, a voice called her name. It was May.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Simmons, I’ve been looking for you.” She told her. “I was just wondering if you’re okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was genuine concern in her eyes. She knew May wasn’t one to talk about emotions. But there she was, asking if she was alright, looking like she actually cared. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m not.” Jemma admitted. “I haven’t been okay in a long time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Impulsively, she grabbed May and hugged her, bursting into tears. May stood there surprised at first, but after a moment, she hugged her back. It was just nice to know that someone genuinely did care about her. And it was a relief to think that maybe she didn’t have to go through this alone. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed that. I'll have more in this series soonish. Thanks for reading! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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